


Million Dollar Babies

by gravitysrainbow



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aha, Blow Jobs, M/M, being in luv, prince and princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitysrainbow/pseuds/gravitysrainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn't know how to respond to a love letter from Louis</p>
            </blockquote>





	Million Dollar Babies

Harry,

            My dear boy, I do not know where to begin. I cannot mark an official start to the trails you fingers have placed upon my skin. As if your nails had dragged across my skin, splitting through the layers and causing beads of my blood to illuminate like Christmas lights the lines you carve. I hope that red lights are your favourite, that the shade my vital breath has been lent by passion is pleasing to you. Because deep within me back up to the surface, I swirl crimson and it’s all by you. Be honest to my poor heart if you do not love the colour red, do not keep me pumping a colour you cannot tolerate. I will drain every last drop of the horrid, impassioned fluid at the slightest downward twitch of your lips. I’ll shoot into my veins anything you request. Colours that don’t even exist, nothing is too extravagant or out of reach if it is to curve your lips into a smile.

            Your lips. When the angels were planning your delightful little figure, the prettiest, most generous seraph was in charge of your face. I believe that she snuck out one night, the week before they assembled you, and travelled down to earth. Through connections and friendships only the heavenly procure she came upon the palest and purest jade stones. Up in the heavens the next morning, she found they’d grown darker, by the hand of mischief, no doubt her punishment for leaving her heavenly home. How delightful the little irises would be, she assured herself, innocent green facets with a mossy, dark past. For your nose, she’d practiced drawing it all of another night. Spending hours perfecting its profile, and hollowing out its nostrils, she’d sprinkled it with a bit of magic, as well, so that everywhere you went no smells would wrinkle it or damage its slope. With two quick and gentle strokes of a fine paint brush, she’d created your eyebrows, resting above your then lifeless eyes. For your eyelashes she’d spent hours with a tweezers, plucking the legs off of spiders and fitting them to your eyelids. The first half of your face was delightful; the various pieces assembled symmetrically and pleasantly on what was barely a head. The angel who’d mixed the pigments of your skin had done so perfectly for the hue of your eyes; he’d joined caramel and sand and peach coloured silk into a mixing bowl, adding crème of tartar to keep it creamy and smooth. It had been determined that your ears would poke out a bit, to add whimsy to the seriousness of your jawline, which was carved from marble and sharpened by angel who’d been the greatest earthly mason to ever live. As the lovely mess of russet curls was sewn to your hairline, the seraph fell into distress, at her wits end over the empty space your mouth should go. The longer she meditated on the shape of them, the more worried she grew. She knew that your lips would be incomparably important to you one day, knowing all the birdsongs that had been stitched into your heart. So, on the final night, the sixth night before you were to be finished and sent to your mother, she set to find the shapeliest rose. After hiking all night in lush forests, she found it, lilting dangerously, close to death, giving it a sad dusty tint. Painstakingly she curved it and arranged it into a delicious pout, the cherry on the inexplicably desirable cake of your face.

            I can’t find myself worthy of the coos that come out of your fantastic young lips, let alone kisses that present themselves to me like million dollar babies, on the door step of my heart. Forcing me to soak each one in and let it suck blood from ventricle happily. I miss who I am around you, when you are not with me. Are you entirely sure that you are not a sunbeam, disguised as a boy? You illuminate me, you illuminate the world around you, and every room you enter is brighter and warmer immediately. I am glowing next to you; I am beautiful when you are beside me. People pay attention to us; they are envious of our beauty. But when I am all alone, not a single passer-by notices me; my eyes do not twinkle and reach out to him. I am less than half of myself without you around.

            I’m sorry if I have stolen your time, sending you this letter to read. I only hope I can set you beside yourself through the only way I know how to. If you find yourself enjoying my words, my heart, my only truth, please let me in, out of the dark. I’ll write to end of your universe if it makes you happy.

                                                                        Your friend/ _servant_ /lover,

                                                                                                Lou xx

 

Harry had moved quickly when he’d seen the envelope marked with Louis’ handwriting, eager to leap inside the folded paper and drink Louis’ professions. He moved slower now, after his eyes had run themselves over the ink on the page multiple times. Having staggered back to the nearest chair whilst swimming in Louis’ letter, Harry felt thankful his knees had not been given the chance to buckle. Emotions like waves, like gusts of wind, rolled in upon him. The first was a crushing sense of worry. How could he ever respond to Louis? His tongue threatened to pack up and leave his mouth at the thought of trying to find words enough to give back to his counterpart. What could Harry ever say back to Louis that could even begin to compare. His brain audibly whirred at the notion of finding syllables to arrange and format for Louis. He felt as if his body had become wax, and unfortunately for him, he’d recently turned the heat up. As he conformed to the curvature of the chair, he felt the panic within him expel. In its place the tide rolled in ultimate gratitude and adoration. The inexplicably delightful and comely Louis had all of that to say and feel about him. If Harry hadn’t found himself rendered immobile, he would have ran off and gotten “your friend/ _servant_ /lover” tattooed inside his eyelids. How could he cause such profound feelings to stir inside his closest friend? How could he, simple little Harry Styles, enamour the most divine man to ever exist? His heart beat in such a rhythm impossible to define as slow or fast, but raced and slowed simultaneously. Louis was going to kill him, he was going to die by the innocent hands of his beloved, he thought, as he melded into the chair, pliant and plush. The third, most overwhelming feeling to hit him yet was a delightful mix of pride and captivation. Not only was his Louis godlike in beauty and graciousness, but he was talented. To articulate his feelings so well made Harry jealous, Louis could set himself free from silence, he couldn’t. Yes, he felt a bit selfish as well. Harry could keep all of Louis words pumping endlessly into his veins, keeping them from anyone else, drinking Louis’ livelihood for all eternity. If he wasn’t so talented, Harry would keep him inside himself forever, but Harry couldn’t selfishly waste Louis’ evident remarkability. These thoughts swamped Harry’s mind for many minutes, as the letter fell softly out of his hand, and the sun slipped deeper under the horizon sneakily.   

Darkness finally hit when Harry fell out of his stupor and thought to call Louis. While dialling the oh-so-familiar number though, Harry thought against calling Louis and ceased to carry out the action. He couldn’t simply call Louis; Louis had written him the most beautiful assimilation of words to date and he couldn’t belittle that with a breathless thank you over the phone. He set the small device back down on the end table, preparing himself to get up from the chair that may or may not have become a permanent fixture of his body by now. He got up and padded down the hall to the dinette, searching the drawers and tables for a pad of paper and a pen. As he opened the last drawer unsuccessfully he noted to himself how much he hated hotels. He could never find anything on command like at his own home. He hated bothering the front desk over and over, but he needed to try to write Louis back. Louis. Louis who was down the hall. Louis who was a handful of meters away from him. Louis, whom he could thank in person.

…But what would he say in person? He’d begun to think Louis’d painted this divine image of him up on false pretences. There was no way Harry could be who Louis had fallen in love with. Had Louis slipped the letter under Harry’s hotel door by mistake? Intending it for the actual Harry he was enslaved to? With a physical shake of his head, Harry shook the thought of Louis devotion being misplaced away. They belonged to each other, they must be worthy of one another, there was literally no other way. But Harry still hadn’t figured out what to say to his dear friend in return. He recalled that on the nightstand there was a bible, typical of all hotels as everyone comes to find out. Jumping across the room and over the bed in a few long bounds of his legs, he reached the nightstand, heart beating a bit in excitement. He wished he were as practised as Louis in the game of wooing lovers, but his skill level was low… and all he had to offer would have to suffice. Scribbling quickly in red ink, Harry felt his hand shaking with anticipation, building himself up so high, dangerously even if Louis were to refuse to climb over.

~

After he’d thrown on a bit of cologne and brushed his teeth, Harry found the nerve to calm himself down and walk to Louis’ hotel room. The hall was bright in a fashion that you couldn’t determine the time of day while inside the hallway. If you ever fell asleep in the hallway, you’d most likely wake up without any notion of the time, not knowing if you’d slept into the next day or simply the next hour. This idea clouded Harry’s mind, making him wonder how they decided on wallpaper and carpeting for a hotel. The lights, too, were curious, set at the perfect hue. They weren’t too bright, had you stumbled into the hotel at 3 am. They weren’t too soft, had you left your room in search of ice but instead found fear and shadows. Zayn must be tickled that the hallway’s so bright, Harry mused to himself. The short walk was over as he pulled up to Louis crème coloured door. With a quick inhale, Harry ducked down and slipped the little scrawled note under Louis door. With a single, quick, sharp rap on the surface of the door Harry waited for Louis to saunter to the door and notice his note. And saunter he would, Harry could imagine; Louis’ gentle, feminine body, wrapped in comfy, relaxed clothes. His rear end looking plump under the fleece of sweatpants and his biceps looking tan and thick where the fabric of his short sleeved shirt would end. Harry felt himself flush and warm up thinking about the glow of his boyfriend’s smooth, warm flesh. Harry hoped he’d chosen the correct room, but figured if he could stumble into Louis’ room late in the night to sleep next to him, he could find it now.

Lost in the moment, he hadn’t heard Louis pick the note up, which read,

“Love, I am driven mad trying to produce a response or thank you to your letter. I don’t think I could find any words to appropriately respond with. Open your door… let me try my hand at something else instead. H.”

Harry jumped a bit as the lock on the door cleared its throat, interrupting his thoughts. After a couple different clicks, and the tension of being so close to Louis’ body, yet so far at the same time, the door finally started to swing open. Open now, and revealing Louis’ lovely little frame as he’d imagined it, sheathed in his grey sweats and a black t shirt.

“Lou.” Harry let out, a bit mystified, and rather tingly. He looked sensuous, his eyes rimmed with darkness and his cheekbones and jaw pulling the skin of his face tightly, creating a handsome shape to his face. Louis motioned his head with a quick, barely noticeable twitch, telling Harry to come in. Harry took one large eager step into the dark, warm room, barely able to keep himself collected as he closed the space between him and Lou. His hands were quickly around his dear friend’s waist after he’d closed and locked the door. Immediately they inhaled each other in, hands finding themselves on the other’s body, Louis conforming to Harry naturally. The younger, larger boy, spanked the other lightly, an action to lift him up and carry him to the bed. Louis took the cue knowledgably and jumped up, wrapping his legs around Harry’s slender hips, letting him walk to the bed. Their lips had found each other’s, a conscious identical thought in both their minds over what Louis had said of Harry’s lips. Still ringing true for Louis now as it had when it left his pen. If ever anyone had ever accused Louis’ lips of being too thin, Harry would have reassured them they had not lacked in skill. Soft and burning with passion, they paired excellently with the skill of Louis tongue. Anywhere Louis had burned holes and shapes into Harry with his tongue, seared when they kissed each other once again. Little memories that begged and lusted for more, for all of Louis’ attention and devotion. Harry had found his way to the end of the king sized mattress and had bent down gingerly to lay Louis on top of the covers, pulling back up as Louis sat up to lift his shirt off. They took a break to both undress, not taking their eyes off each other’s bodies. They’d agreed one night long ago, lying in between damp sheets with sparkles in their eyes, that in their opinions the other boy was the most beautiful and perfect they’d ever met.

So as Harry took the entirety of Louis’ form in, he expelled all his held in breath. Louis’ body was mystifying in that he was both visibly toned and muscular yet curvy and even had a little pudge of a stomach. His skin was that of a surfer who spent all hours in the sun, yet Louis lived in England and couldn’t possibly have spent many hours in the sun. Yet Louis never tanned, leading Harry to assume that the only option was that Louis _was_ the sun himself.

As if on cue, Louis grinned at him as he started to climb on the bed near him, convincing him further that it is the east and Louis is the sun.

“So what’ll it be, Styles. How do you plan to articulate yourself?” Louis’ eyes looked a bit stormier than usual, as if kissing Harry had turned the ocean blue irises tumultuous and deeper.

“Shh, you’ve said enough, I couldn’t ask you for anything more.” With that, Harry found himself hovering over and straddling Louis. Breaking a kiss that had only just started, Harry pressed his lips that Louis adored so much, all over his face and then down his neck, but not after nibbling his ear, licking the lot of his ear lobe lightly and blowing as soft as he could. He knew Louis was one for the sensation, and felt as a shiver went through Louis under him.

“Mine.” Harry let out a quick, low whisper into Louis’ ear, leaving Louis to hum softly in loving response. Harry’s hands followed his mouth as the three of them wandered down Louis body. Leaving kisses and caresses and flames behind them. As Harry’s wet kisses air dried on Louis’ burning skin, Harry worked his way to his destination. Harry hovered momentarily over Louis’ erection. His breath shallow and his mouth salivating as he took in the masculine smell. Harry could only imagine the flicker of Louis’ eyelids and the tight grip he had on the bed linens. He didn’t bother to look though, because the gasp that Louis expelled as Harry wrapped his hand around his dick was enough. Harry fought between sloppy and hot versus skilled and fluent. But with Louis let out a small whine, he decided on slow. Harry’s tongue expertly and pointedly swirled around the tip of Louis’ cock, drawing shapes around and on only the tip, no doubt driving Louis up the wall, begrudgingly a fan of the teasing. Harry took a couple flat and wide strokes of his tongue on the sides of Louis’ perfectly veiny penis. Getting it slick and letting the air cool the wet saliva as Harry removed his mouth. Louis breath was quickened, and his cheeks obnoxiously flushed as Harry enclosed his mouth around Lou’s length for the first time. Harry wasted no time hollowing his cheeks and taking Louis into his throat, concentrating on suppressing a gag. He put his hands on Louis’ balls, applying pressure and driving Louis’ mad. Louis, with his deep pink lips spread open and gasping quietly as Harry bobbed up and down his erection.

“Harry, god…” Louis had been fairly quiet so far, but as Harry’s work intensified, Louis had no doubt become unhinged. Harry slowed, sucking extra hard and he pulled off Louis dick, making a loud suctioned noise when he came up. Harry’s lips were shiny and his fringe clung sweaty to his forehead. Louis stared back at him languidly, in his moments of pure bliss before Harry bent back down, wrapping his long hand around the base of Louis’ cock. Harry spent a couple moments playing with his tongue all over Louis’ penis, teasing him and listening to him moan before letting him go to sit up. Harry crawled up near Louis’ head, holding out two fingers for him to suck on. Louis gave them the wettest go he could, not breaking his eye contact with the lusty boy sitting next to him. Harry then inserted two fingers into himself, feverishly preparing himself as he kissed and fondled Louis.

Pulling the fingers out himself a minute or so later, he reached for the lube his silly Louis had casually left on the night stand. Then preparing Louis and himself with the lube, lying down as Louis took the cue to sit up and ram his boyfriend. Sliding in with no waste of time, as both boys moved rushed and desperately. As soon as Louis filled him, Harry’s body swelled with emotion and sensation, Louis wasting no time to pick a quick, hard rhythm. He could tell it wasn’t going to take either of them very long, as Harry’s hand pumped along his own penis. Their gasps and moans came quicker, with less time in between. Until Harry felt Louis shudder and heard him releasing before he actually felt it, and when he finally did, he too released. As they rode out what they had ridden in, Harry felt his skin expelling all heat. Eventually Louis pulled out and plopped down beside Harry, both catching their breath with glossy eyes and lips.

~

After a quick clean up, both boys readjusted and in boxers again, they snuck across the hall to Harry’s clean unrumpled bed. Giggling and catching each other’s glances gleefully, eyes in the shape of half-moons due to smiles.

Once in bed, under the moonlight, the boys find themselves under a wave of exhaustion, abrupt and intense.

“Louis, don’t ever stop loving me as hard as you can. I want to keep every piece of you, every letter, every kiss, until the day I myself crumble into dust. Even then, I’ll have your kisses and letters permanently for myself.”

“Ok Harry. As long as you promise one thing.”

“Yes, anything.”

“That every night it’s my bed you want to be in, that every day it’s my eyes you want to catch and that every morning you want to wake up next to me.”

“Yes.”


End file.
